Casebook 12: The Case Of The Artist's Legacy
by TalepieceUK
Summary: From The Casebook Of Madame Vastra. Vastra and her newfound friends set out to deal with the hideous threat unleashed upon London.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: The Case Of The Artist's Legacy  
>AUTHOR: Talepiece<br>RATING: 12 cert.  
>PAIRING: VastraJenny  
>SERIES: The Casebook Of Madame Vastra<br>CONTINUITY: This is the fourth and final story in the third volume of Vastra/Jenny stories. It references iThe Case Of The Severed Hand/i and iThe Case Of The Red Goddess/i amongst others and follows on directly from the previous part.  
>DISCLAIMER: Own them, I do not; sue me, please do not.<br>CREDITS: This story is loosely based on Manly Wade Wellman's iThe Golgotha Dancers/i and The Man From The Ministry is taken from the description of a certain literary sibling.  
>NOTE: I'm still taking liberties with Who cannoncontinuity and I'm still entirely unrepentant.  
>The blog is now up on the TP web site, where I'll be posting about future plans for the Casebook Series and the upcoming Christmas story.<br>POSTED: November 2014

* * *

><p>When mourning the loss of her beloved companion, Madame Vastra was saved by the presence of the most remarkable of men. She and her newfound friends set out to deal with the hideous threat unleashed upon London.<p>

Jennifer Strax Vastra-Flint.  
>London, 1950.<p>

* * *

><p>"So what you're saying," Perpugilliam Brown said, "is that you started quantum mechanics by telling some old Greek guy about atoms?"<p>

The Doctor harrumphed, "Not in so many words, no, but I may have had a very pleasant chat with him. By a river, as I recall."

Peri rolled her eyes and watched as he rushed around the console, tinkering with various controls and occasionally dropping down to his knees to stare accusingly at the underside. He had foregone his coat of many colours in favour of rolled up sleeves and loosened braces. Suspenders, Peri thought and cursed herself for picking up the Doctor's Anglicised vocabulary.

He muttered something about reversing the polarity and rushed back to the other side of the console.

"OK, so what exactly is the problem here?" Peri finally said.

"Well," the Doctor drew out the word, "I wouldn't want to confuse you with a lot of technical language -"

"You don't know, do you?"

"I didn't say that," he looked up at her with a sharp glare that was somewhat neutered by his position.

"You didn't have to, Doctor."

"Now listen here, young lady -" he began in his most pompous tone but the sudden movement of the time rotor stopped him, "Ah, apparently I've fixed it."

"Yeah right."

Peri hurried over to the Doctor's side and they watched the rotor rise and fall. She glanced up to find him staring intently at the screen on the console.

Peri tensed, "What is it, Doctor?"

"I have no idea but the old girl does seem to be rather determined to get us somewhere."

"Somewhere? Can you be more specific?"

"I'm afraid not, Peri. Back in a tick."

With that he ran from the control room and Peri was left to watch the rotor and wonder. The Doctor returned in a few minutes now dressed in his beloved coat and carrying Peri's own, more muted jacket. He handed it over distractedly, his eyes immediately set on the console.

"Well?"

"Well," and again he drew out the word, "this time I really haven't the foggiest."

"You're not filling me with confidence here, Doctor."

"No, I suppose not. Still," he pointed to the rotor as it ground to a halt, "at least we're about to find out."

"Oh great," Peri said but she was already donning her coat and heading for the Tardis door.

The Doctor threw the control and the doors opened before her. Peri hesitated, overwhelmed by the heavy scent of earth and something else that almost overpowered even that.

"Jeez, what's that," she began but stopped in speech and movement as she stepped clear of the doors, "Oh."

She had stepped out into the mouth of a tunnel, man-made and still under construction. The dim illuminations of a city at night could be made out at the entrance and there were torches dotted around. A few more flames flared and guttered where they had been thrown to the ground. Ground that was carpeted with bodies.

The Doctor joined her and was equally stunned by the sight, though only for a moment. He rallied quickly and took hold of Peri's arm in a firm grip. Easing her behind him, he made to move towards one of the bodies but a low, desperate keening sound stopped him once more.

"Doctor?" Peri said from around his shoulder.

"Yes, Peri, I hear it. Be careful, won't you?"

"You bet I will."

With that they began to edge forward. It was hard enough to manoeuvre on the rough ground and in such poor light but having to negotiate the fallen men added to the difficulty. Peri stumbled, her foot catching at the arm of some poor soul. She looked down in alarm and froze yet again.

"Er, Doctor? Have you noticed something here?"

"You mean the many dead bodies littering the floor? Yes, Peri, thank you for pointing it out but I had, in fact, noticed them."

"No, Doctor," she said a little more sharply than she meant, "not just that."

The Doctor halted his slow progress to the source of the keening sound and turned back to Peri. She was staring down at one of the dead and his own gaze lowered to discover what had so disturbed his companion.

"Ah."

"Ah? Is that it? Just 'ah'?"

"Ah, that explains it then."

The Doctor looked around the carnage, this time considering the faces of each of the fallen. Peri waited for more information but none was forthcoming.

"What are they, Doctor?"

"Silurians." At Peri's impatient glare, he continued, "The original inhabitants of Earth. They were sharing space - quite happily, I might add - with the dinosaurs before you apes were out of the sea."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously, yes. Being a remarkably clever species, they spotted the impending doom of an on-coming meteorite or two and decided to wait things out beneath ground."

"And they're still there?" Peri's eyes flicked to her feet, "Now?"

"Oh yes. They would rather like their planet back but I had hoped they'd realised that you apes had over-run the place."

"Apparently not. Is this an invasion?"

"With a handful of warriors? Bit half-hearted, wouldn't you say?"

"A bloodbath is what I'd say."

"Yes, that does raise another question, doesn't it?"

"Does it?"

"Well, look at these wounds," he indicated the slaughter with a wave of his hand, "bullet wounds, knife and sword wounds and, well, whatever did that to the poor chap."

Peri followed the Doctor's outstretched finger and immediately wished she had not. The man - she assumed he had been a man - had suffered the most vicious attack of any of the bodies she had seen. He had been ripped apart. And that wasn't an exaggeration.

"Jeez," Peri muttered. She swallowed hard and dragged her eyes away from the body to stare up at the Doctor, "What the hell did that?"

"I have no idea, Peri, but hell might not be too far from the truth."

The keening suddenly grew louder, filling the tunnel for a long moment. It was only as the sound died away that both the Doctor and Peri realised that another noise had stopped.

"Someone's outside," Peri said.

"Or they were," the Doctor looked around the tunnel, trying to identify the location of the keening sound, "And that keening is a Silurian's mourning cry. Come on," and with that he was moving again.

Peri followed, hardly able to keep up with the Doctor's dancing steps as he made his way through the maze of bodies. They were moving deeper into the tunnel, almost to the point were it dropped down into the underlying rock.

"Doctor, where exactly are we?"

"London, possibly," he whispered over his shoulder, "Paris, even? I'd say sometime in the late nineteenth century."

"Why?"

"Because I think this is an early underground railway system."

Peri glanced around, "So this is either the Tube or the Metro?"

"Yes. Though neither of them were called that originally."

The Doctor stopped suddenly and Peri found herself pressed close to his back. She eased around him and followed his gaze. A tall, thin creature was crouched over a smaller figure. The head was reptilian, scaled and obviously green, even in the dim light. Its hands... No, Peri realised, her hands were pressed to the face of her fallen comrade and she appeared to be weeping.

"My name is the Doctor. Can I offer any assistance?"

The lizard woman sprang up, face jutting out, tongue extending from her mouth and lashing out towards them. She gave a loud hissing sound and glared at them with her burning, red-rimmed eyes.

The Doctor leaned back dramatically and Peri followed the movement of his body, tucking her face in behind his shoulder until he straightened once more.

"Easy, easy there," the Doctor said in his most soothing tone, "We're here to help. I'm the Doctor," he repeated, emphasising the title.

A flicker of understanding danced through her eyes and the tongue flicked back into her mouth. There was another hiss but this one a little less intimidating.

Peri stepped out from the Doctor's side, her hands raised in a placating gesture, "Let him look at your friend. Maybe he can help, eh?"

Another hiss but this little more than curiosity. Peri took another step and another until she was within a few yards of the Silurian. It was only then that she glanced down and clearly saw the figure that she had been mourning.

"Er, Doctor?"

"Yes, Peri, I know. Your friend," the Doctor said to the Silurian, "This is your friend, yes? Were the humans and Silurians fighting a common enemy?"

This time the hiss was angry again. More than that, it was furious and the tongue lashed out, cutting the air between the Doctor and Peri.

"Let's take that as a no, Doctor."

The Doctor edged closer to the fallen human; a small woman, young with dark hair and pale skin. He kept his hands away from his body and slowly crouched down until he was kneeling beside her. The Silurian squatted down too, hissing dangerously but not intervening as the Doctor reached out and eased the body over a little, exposing the raw bullet wound. It oozed blood, the front of the shirt and waistcoat shredded and burned, the skin thick with impending demise.

"I think," the Doctor said very carefully, "that I might be able to save your friend."

"Do it," the Silurian said in a hissing rush.

Peri blinked, "You can speak?"

"Peri! Honestly, I am sorry," the Doctor said to the Silurian, adding by way of explanation, "She's an American, you know. Now then."

The Doctor looked around, wondering if there were any others that he could help. With a deep dismay, he realised that even if there was anyone else alive, the Zero Room would not be able to help more than one of them at a time. He had promised to help the young woman and he doubted that this Silurian would take kindly to him risking her life to help the others. Especially the humans.

"Now, Peri, get back to the Tardis and -"

"Tardis?" the Silurian said and it was less of a hiss now, "You are The Doctor?"

"Oh please, don't stoke his ego," Peri harrumphed.

"Really," the Doctor glared at her before answering the question, "Yes, I am The Doctor."

"I will carry her," the Silurian said.

"I rather think that's best. All right, I'll get everything ready. Peri you lead our friend here to the Zero Room, yes?"

"Okey dokey."

* * *

><p>Madame Vastra paced down the long, white corridor of the Tardis, executed a near-perfect turn and paced back again. She repeated the manoeuvre over and over again, each time under the watchful eye of Peri. She felt vaguely ashamed of reverting to her most reptilian nature and with every passing minute that her more cultured self returned, the shame grew.<p>

"I apologise," she said eventually.

Peri started, lulled by the endlessly repetitive movements and the gentle padding of the Silurian's boots.

"Sorry for what?"

"For being so," Vastra hesitated, unable to find a suitable word. She settled on, "Silurian," with a sigh.

"You don't think much of your people?" Peri said, intrigued by the thought.

"I," Vastra continued her pacing, not speaking until she had returned to Peri, "I am not entirely comfortable in the company of some Silurians."

"Diplomatically put. Any chance you could teach the Doctor some of that?"

Vastra halted her pacing and smiled at the girl. She was pretty in a human sort of way and surprisingly friendly, given the circumstances of their meeting. Travelling with the Doctor most probably required such an attitude.

"I had thought him quite skilled in that regard."

"Maybe in the past," Peri grinned, "but not so much this time."

"Then it is true, the Doctor can alter his physical appearance?"

"Oh, it's not just physical, it's the whole kit and caboodle."

"Caboodle?" Vastra stared at Peri.

She had thought the English spoken by Master Archie and his ilk foreign enough but apparently Americans had found new and original ways to torture the language.

"Yeah, caboodle. It's -" Peri began but she was interrupted as the door of the Zero Room opened.

They both turned to watch as the Doctor stepped out, closing the door carefully behind him. He looked concerned but not grieving and Peri relaxed just a little. Vastra did not and Peri reached out and gently pressed her hand to the Silurian's arm. She idly noticed the thick leather band at her wrist but took little notice as they waited for the Doctor to speak.

"Well then," he dragged a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and dabbed at his forehead, "your friend is very ill, as I'm sure you can imagine, but I believe that the Zero Room will save her."

"Well done, Doctor!"

"Why, thank you Peri. It will take some time, though, and I'd like her left alone for at least twelve hours; the room needs time to work and I'd like to take a look at you too," he added, indicating Vastra.

"I wish to see my companion, Doctor."

"Seriously, you should let the room do its work," Peri said.

"I do understand your desire to see your friend -" the Doctor began.

"She is more than a friend," Vastra hissed.

"Yes, I rather thought she was but that's neither here nor there, if you'll forgive me for saying so," he said quickly, his hands rising to ward off Vastra's growing annoyance, "She needs to rest and so do you. I don't know if you're aware of this but you are very badly hurt yourself."

Vastra stared at him in confusion before following their gazes to look down at her own body. The front of her thick gilet was ripped through, exposing much of her chest and abdomen. Not that you could see her scales, covered as they were with dirt and blood. Her arms had fared worse still, the thinner material in tatters and her scales raw and bloody.

Vastra's first thought was that it was not her own. She had, after all, cut a swathe through the remaining combatants once Jenny's body had slumped to the floor. She could not be certain how many she had felled but she was certain that they were human and Silurian alike. She had barely been aware of the difference at that point. She had fought the creatures from the painting as well but had not, alas, killed them.

It was with some surprise then, that Vastra suddenly felt the deep, burning ache of her lacerations. She held her hands away from her body and studied herself from fingertips to chest and down to her feet. There was little sign of the carefully tailored clothing she wore when in potentially dangerous situations. There was little sign of the scales beneath either. There was simply thick blood, some of it still trickling from her own flesh.

Suddenly she felt faint. She wavered dangerously and had to reach out for the wall to steady herself. It was warm, she noticed, and it throbbed gently beneath her fingers. The Doctor and Peri rushed to take hold of her but she waved them away with her free hand. They stepped back hastily and watched in concern as she shook her head to force her eyes to focus. That accomplished, she straightened and tested her legs.

"I believe I can walk a little way, Doctor. Perhaps I might rest for a moment or two."

"Take three or four," Peri offered.

"Hours," the Doctor added in a firm tone.

Vastra didn't have the energy to argue and she followed along wordlessly as Peri lead the way back through the Tardis to a small room not far from the thrumming hub of the vessel. Vastra could hear the steady rhythm of whatever strange engines carried the Tardis through time and space.

"You have," she sort for the correct term, "left the tunnel?"

"I have," the Doctor indicated a large wicker chair that sat in one corner of the room, "it seemed best not to dally, given the circumstances."

"You are undoubtedly correct, Doctor."

"Why thank you, Madame," he raised a brow in question, "Vastra, is it?"

Vastra had only just lowered herself into the chair and she shot to her feet once more, glaring at the Doctor.

"How do you know who I am?"

"Hey, easy, Madame," Peri hesitated, "er, Madame whoever-you-are, you need to sit down."

Vastra was about to deny the fact most strenuously when all strength left her legs and she slumped down despite herself. Peri reached out and helped her settle into the wicker chair, though with the lightest of touches. Vastra never took her eyes from the Doctor and his gaze held hers without flinching.

"I rather thought you were from the beginning. A Silurian female, fighting with and obviously attached to a human woman. In Victorian England. In the middle of some sort of altercation. Well," the Doctor smiled, "it's not that much of a stretch."

"You're famous?" Peri said.

"Miss Perpugilliam Brown, allow me to introduce Madame Vastra, the Great Detective of Paternoster Row."

"Wow. An honour, I'm sure."

A tiny smile flickered across Vastra's blood-splattered face, "The honour is mine, I assure you. So I am remembered, Doctor?"

"Oh, very much so. And Miss Flint as well."

"I am relieved," Vastra's smile grew, "These humans can be rather selective in their collective memory. No offence, Miss Brown."

"None taken; I know what you mean. And call me Peri."

"Well then," the Doctor said, "now that the introductions are taken care of, let's take care of you, shall we?"


	2. Chapter 2

Vastra was not in the habit of being tended, certainly not by anyone but her beloved companion. She felt uncomfortable under the Doctor's gentle ministrations and that only darkened her already dark thoughts. What if she were to loose Jenny? What if the Doctor and his magical Zero Room could not heal her?

Vastra had thought Jenny dead; it would truly require a miracle to resurrect her. If the Doctor were successful in doing so, she promised herself, then she would pledge her allegiance to the Time Lord without question. She almost said that aloud but hesitated to do so, not wishing to voice the possibility that Jenny might be lost to her once more.

"She'll be fine," the Doctor said in a gentle tone, "just give it time."

"You are telepathic, Doctor?"

"God, I hope not," Peri muttered from behind him.

The Doctor shifted in his crouch at Vastra's right arm and glanced over his shoulder before smiling up at Vastra, "I don't need to be in this case, Madame."

"You love her very much, don't you?" Peri said.

"I do. I trust that does not make you too uncomfortable, Miss Brown."

"Peri, please, and no, it doesn't make me uncomfortable at all. Why would it?"

"Jenny," Vastra's voice caught on the name, "has experienced some resistance to her choice of partner in the past, I understand."

"Ah, humans," the Doctor said, "they'll write all the poems and paeans to liberalism and love that you could hope for, then lynch each other for being different."

"We get better, trust me," Peri said, though she didn't sound entirely convinced.

"This will have to go," the Doctor said as he shuffled on the floor to settle at Vastra's left arm.

Vastra glanced down and was surprised to see the Vortex Manipulator or at least, what little of the thick leather band was discernible through the blood and shed scales.

Peri leaned over his shoulder, "What is it anyhow?"

"It's a Vortex Manipulator and I'm not a big fan of the things."

Vastra raised a brow, "Why so, Doctor?"

"They're rather dangerous, you know. Though, I suspect this one has faulty time circuits. Yes?"

"I have been unable to repair them, though the device does give me the ability to alter my appearance."

"Seriously?" Peri peered at the wrist band more closely, "That thing?"

The Doctor flipped the casing open and exposed the device beneath, "This thing. Now," he eased the band from Vastra's wrist and set to work on her left arm, "you'd better tell Peri and I what's going on here. I rather think we should sort it out, don't you?"

Vastra took a moment to order her still somewhat hazy thoughts and then said, "There have been a series of attacks, Doctor; brutal beyond description."

"Jack the Ripper?" Peri asked excitedly.

"Jack the...?" Vastra looked from one to the other.

"Ignore her," the Doctor said, casting a baleful glare at his companion, "and, please, do go on."

Vastra expounded on the attacks and the willingness of herself and Jenny to investigate.

"Why wouldn't they want a Great Detective's help?" Peri interrupted.

"I did not know. Though, I thought perhaps due to our gender and a certain squeamishness on the part of some human males."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

"Not on the part of this Time Lord male, I assure you ladies," the Doctor said, adding, "You investigated anyway, of course?"

"Initially not, Doctor, for Jenny and I were employed on other cases. Jenny," it was becoming a little easier to say her name, Vastra realised and was pleased by that, "and I were beginning to fear that we would have to intercede when a particularly unfortunate occurrence forced our hand."

"Unfortunate?" Peri said.

"Jenny's cousin, Miss Lucinda Flint, was arrested for the murder of her spouse, one Professor Jeremiah Hoogstraten -"

"Great name," Peri muttered.

"- and it soon became clear that his death was one in that same series of events."

"How so?" the Doctor asked.

Vastra spoke of the strange painting, it's torn canvas and the inscription that spoke so vividly of the artist's state of mind.

"Jeez," Peri shivered, "that's not actually possible, is it?"

"Alas, it would appear so," Vastra hesitated, lost for a moment in the memory of her vicious attack on one of the evil little cherubs. An attack that had hardly troubled the creature at all, "the humans brought two of these creatures to the underground workings."

"But why?"

"To clear the Silurians, Peri" the Doctor's eyes never left Vastra's darkening face as she struggled with her rising ire. It took a while for her to calm herself sufficiently to speak again.

"I am afraid so. I had no idea that the humans were even aware of the presence of my people, Doctor, but at least some of them are."

"And they're not being very welcoming," Peri said.

The Doctor sighed, "They so rarely are. Difference, you see?"

"So they don't know about you?" Peri indicated the discarded Vortex Manipulator, "That's why you use that thing?"

"In truth, I generally employ the more reliable method of veil and gloves but, yes, the device does serve the same purpose."

They were silent for a long moment, Vastra fighting to keep her eyes open as a bone-deep weariness threatened to overwhelm her and the Doctor and Peri lost in their own thoughts.

"You really should rest, Madame," Peri said.

Vastra shook herself hard and made to refute the suggestion but the Doctor interrupted her.

"Peri's absolutely right, Madame Vastra, you really must sleep."

With that, he stood and reached out his hands towards Vastra's face. He placed them on either side of Vastra's head, ignoring her warning glare, and took a gentle hold. Closing his eyes, he remained utterly focused for a moment.

Peri watched, fascinated as Vastra's eyes closed despite herself. A moment later her head lolled, her body relaxing into a deep sleep. The Doctor eased her head back into the chair and released his grip. Vastra gave a long, involuntary sigh and slept on.

"Neat trick. Can you teach me?"

* * *

><p>The time rotor rose and fell before settling into its resting position, the sound of their short journey fading away. At least Peri hoped that it had been a short journey. In theory, they were now in the home of Madame Vastra but with the Doctor in control, who knew? To reduce the suspense, Peri threw the door control, cast a doubtful look to the Doctor and stepped outside.<p>

She looked around at the pleasantly old-fashioned parlour. It was the sort of thing you saw in British costume dramas on PBS.

"Homely, I like it," she said as the Doctor stepped out beside her.

"There you are, you see? Exactly where we wanted to be."

There was a hint of relief in his tone but Peri chose not to notice. She said, "Of course, it could be the wrong house and we're about to be shot as trespassers."

"Ever the optimist, Peri, ever the optimist."

The Doctor was about to peel off his coat and light the fire when the doorbell rang. It made them both jump and they shared a smile as they walked to the hallway and on to the front door.

The Doctor opened it to find a young man looking up at him. His expression shifted from relief to shock and on to anger. The Doctor ignored all of that but did notice the dark lines around his eyes and the heavy set of his shoulders.

"You really should get more rest, young man."

The young man in question had been about to speak but he stopped, taking some time to consider the advice before setting it aside and glaring up at them.

"And just who would you be, Sir?"

"I would be the Doctor and this would be my companion, Miss Brown."

Peri tolerated the knowing glance of the young man when the Doctor used the word 'companion' and worried instead about how the Doctor was going to explain their presence in what may - or may not - be Madame Vastra's house. Then the young man was eyeing her less-than-Victorian garb with a scandalised frown and she was worrying about not hitting him.

"Doctor?" he said, dragging his eyes away from Peri's short skirt, "Is Miss Flint taken ill?"

"I'm afraid so," the Doctor said, "Madame Vastra herself is somewhat worse for the wear."

"Worse for the wear, Sir?" Again the young man man eyed them suspiciously, "And you two are tending to them?"

"Yes, you could say that. And you are?"

"Detective Constable Fletch, Doctor...?"

"Yes, that's right. Come in Detective Constable and do tell us how poor Miss Lucinda Flint is managing during her incarceration."

Fletch hadn't entirely lost his concerned expression but he had relaxed a little at the Doctor's question. Peri stepped back to allow him to enter the hall and waited with a knowing grin as the Doctor hesitated over where they should speak. The Tardis might be rather more of a talking point than the young officer could cope with.

The Doctor settled on remaining in the hall and the three of them stood close to the door as he said, "You will understand if we don't venture into the parlour? Madame Vastra is resting, you understand."

"Of course Sir, though I really do need to speak with one of them."

"Important news?" Peri said.

"Yes, Miss."

She and the Doctor waited for more information but none was forthcoming. The Doctor rolled his eyes at Peri, though behind Fletch's back.

"I assure you that Miss Brown and I have the full confidence of Madame Vastra and Miss Flint."

Fletch hesitated and then said, "I'm afraid that Miss Flint - Miss Lucinda Flint - is being charged and she'll be moved to Brixton this morning. I thought I should inform Miss Flint immediately."

"And so you should, Detective Constable. I thank you for it personally. Now, then, Peri, I want you to stay here and wait for Madame Vastra to wake up. Tell her that I've gone to deal with this situation."

"Doctor?" Peri stared at him.

"Peri," he mimicked.

Peri glared at him, leaned in closer and hissed, "Are you sure about this?"

"Do excuse us for a moment," he said to Fletch before easing Peri to the far end of the hallway and leaning down to her, "It falls to us to deal with this matter, Peri, and I may be able to learn more from this young man."

Peri glanced back at Fletch, "He seems to like them."

"Yes, I rather think he does. I'll go with him, you stay here and for heaven's sake, keep Vastra from entering the Zero Room. You might want to put on some more appropriate clothing too," he added as he turned away from her.

With that he was striding back to Fletch, his round face beaming with bon ami as he manoeuvred the young man out of the door with an ease that startled both Fletch and Peri.

Peri stood in place, staring at the closing door and shaking her head in wonder. She made to return to the Tardis and Madame Vastra but was stopped when the doorbell rang once more.

"Jeez, does it ever stop?"

Hurrying down the hallway, she opened the door to find an even younger man at the bottom of the few steps, his gaze was locked on the Doctor and Fletch as they hurried off to find a cab. Peri took the few moments of his distraction to consider him. He was fifteen or so, dressed in a suit, with his hands wedged into his pockets and a truncated top-hat at a jaunty angle on his head.

He spoke as he turned to the door, "Blimey, who's the geezer in the -" and stopped mid-flow as he saw Peri in the doorway, "Who the bleedin' 'ell are you then? And what you wearin', gal?"

"Who are you? Oliver Twist?"

"Think of myself as more of an Artful Dodger," the lad said with a cocky grin.

"You can read?" Peri regretted her surprised squeak immediately, "Er, sorry."

He laughed, "Nah, don't be. My gal Mosa can read, got taught by one of the others at her old place, but I'd heard the tale already."

They stared at each other, grinning, though neither really knew why.

"So," Peri drew out the word, "who are you?"

"Reckon you should be telling me that, eh? Could be a tea leaf or anything."

Peri knew enough rhyming slang to be offended, "Hey, I'm no thief, thank you very much."

The lad touched the brim of his hat, "Beggin' your pardon, I'm sure. So, who are you then?"

"My name's Peri. Peri Brown. I'm looking after Madame Vastra and Miss Flint while," Peri hesitated, "while their Doctor has gone off with the Detective Constable."

The lad was bounding up the steps and pushing past her before Peri could stop him. He barrelled into the hallway and pirouetted as he decided which room to check first.

"I'm Archie. Have they been taken poorly like? Not hurt, are they? Come on, gal, spit it out. Are they alright or what?"

Peri blinked, catching up with herself as she closed the door and joined Archie at the entrance to the parlour. Before she could stop him, he was stepping inside and coming to a grinding halt in front of the Tardis. He stood before the large, blue box and stared up at it.

"Bleedin' 'ell, what's the Madame up to now?"

"Long story," Peri tried to deflect the conversation, "So, Archie, what's up?"

"Up? Oh, I came to see Miss Flint, tell her what I'd found out."

"And?"

"And it ain't good. Not one bit of it neither."

Peri indicated that Archie should sit down, settled herself into the other chair by the empty fire and urged him to speak. He was just about to do so when the door of the Tardis opened and he turned to stare, jaw agape, as Vastra stumbled out. She was obviously disoriented and certainly appeared to have been through a great deal.

Archie bounded out of his chair and was immediately helping to steady her as she stopped in front of the Tardis. Vastra blinked down at him, her eyes slowly finding their focus before she gave her head one last shake and returned to her imperious self. Though the effect was somewhat muted by her tattered attire and the expanse of bandages that the Doctor had administered.

"Bleedin' 'ell," Archie said, casting an accusing glare at Peri, "What have you done to her?"

"Saved my life, I believe, Master Archie," Vastra cuffed his ear in the manner that Jenny usually employed, "and Miss Flint's too, I trust."

Peri nodded, "I hope so. We can't check on her yet, though; you heard the Doctor."

Vastra merely grunted in response and noticed that Archie was considering her exposed torso with a mixture of horror and fascination. She cuffed his ear again, though felt that she did not do so with the flare of her companion. Archie was barely troubled by it at all.

"Master Archie, pray run to the kitchen and make tea for Miss Brown and I. For yourself also and take one of the buns, if any remain."

Archie did as bidden, though perhaps a little reluctantly, and Vastra excused herself to change.

"You may wish to don more appropriate attire, Miss Brown," Vastra said as she left the room.

"OK already, I get the hint," Peri said and returned to the Tardis.

They reconvened a little later; Vastra once more in her finery; Peri uncomfortable in corset and bustle, the floor-length gown catching under her primly-shod feet. Archie was unchanged but for the puffed out cheeks of someone enjoying rather too many sticky buns.

Vastra poured tea and felt a twinge of regret that Jenny was not present to perform the ritual herself. She set the thought aside and focused on Peri.

"The Doctor?"

"A young detective constable came, the Doctor went with him." Vastra cast her a questioning look and Peri continued, "Apparently Lucinda Flint is being charged and moved to a prison somewhere -"

"Which one?" Archie asked around a mouthful of bun.

"Brixton, he said."

Archie shook his head and tutted. Vastra understood his concern but set that aside too. This was no time to be mired in worry for one person, even Miss Lucinda Flint; there was a great deal more at stake and, Vastra hoped, solving that would free Lucy by consequence.

"And the Doctor's purpose?"

Peri grinned, "Oh, he'll cause enough trouble to keep her away from there for a while."

"I trust you are correct. Now," Vastra turned to Archie, "if you would, Master Archie?"

Archie swallowed down the last of his food and said, "I did as Miss Flint asked and nosed about a bit. Subtle like," he emphasised, "and heard a few things that are not good at all."

Peri and Vastra listened as he explained what he had learnt. Both women wore dark expressions when he had finished and Peri looked to Vastra in horror.

"Seriously?"

"I am afraid so," Vastra said as she rose form her seat. She cast a long - and longing - look towards the Tardis but forced herself to turn back and move for the door.

"Come then, we have work to do."


	3. Chapter 3

"So we're off to get Miss Lucy out of clink then?" Archie said hopefully as he trotted along between the two women.

"We are not," Vastra said, "We are to find this mysterious Man From The Ministry, as you call him, and confront the situation head on."

"Shame," Archie muttered.

They hurried to the end of Paternoster Row and Vastra hailed a Hansom Cab with nothing but a flick of her hand. Just as they were about to step into it, a voice called out to them from a little further down the street. They turned to see a young man dressed in the uniform of a messenger dodging the human traffic of the pavement, a letter in his hand.

"Madame Vastra is it?"

"It is."

"Here you are then, Madame," the runner said. He waited while Vastra opened the letter and read the brief contents carefully, then held out his hand expectantly. Vastra dropped a few coins into his palm and he thanked her profusely.

"Blimey, that was generous of you," Archie said.

"It was?" Vastra appeared surprised, "In truth, Jenny usually handles such matters."

Archie merely rolled his eyes and looked down at the paper in Vastra's hands. Peri was awaiting an explanation also but Vastra encouraged them into the cab and paused as she instructed the driver and settled beside them.

After a few more moments, she said, "A missive from Professor Litefoot."

"Litefoot?" Peri thought for a moment, "I think the Doctor's mentioned him."

"And what does this Professor say then?" Archie asked.

"That he has been called in to explain himself and that, though he told them nothing of my personal involvement, I should be most careful in my further investigations."

"Sounds like a good guy."

Vastra studied Peri for a moment, deciphering the comment before saying, "Indeed he is."

The cab jogged down the Embankment before turning off into Horse Guards Avenue and on to Parliament Street. It deposited them outside one of the imposing, white stone buildings at the heart of the British establishment. Great Scotland Yard stood at the end of the street but this part was dominated by military buildings and most notably the Banqueting House.

"Wow," Peri said.

"Not bad, eh? Shame about the bugger's who work here," Archie grinned and danced away from Vastra lest she clip his ear.

"So how do we know this is the place?" Peri said.

Vastra raised her hand, still clutching Litefoot's letter, "The Professor was most particular in mentioning this building."

Vastra lead the way around the impressive building, taking in its newly applied Portland Stone facade, the interlocking Corinthian and Ionic columns and the upper frieze and festoons. It sang of the ostentation of England's earlier Monarchs and of the establishment that now controlled the British Empire.

They entered to find themselves in the double-height room at the hall's heart, their footsteps sounding loud around them. Initially it seemed that they were alone but a small, discrete door in the corner opened and a clerk hurried out to meet them. He was dwarfed by his surroundings and the vast opulence of the Ruben's created ceiling.

"I'm afraid this building isn't open to the public," the man said as he approached them.

He had a low, annoying voice that made Vastra's scales twitch but she ignored the sensation and offered her hand in greeting. The man merely stared at it.

"I wish to speak with the gentleman who was in charge of the events at the Eastcheap underground station," Vastra said in her most imperious tone.

The man blinked at her, "I have no idea to what you refer, Madame. I really must ask you to -"

He was cut off by a loud voice from the far side of the hall. Vastra thought the man lucky that this newcomer had saved him from her wrath but said nothing as she turned to study the imposing figure who strode towards them. He was heavily built and quite massive, a tall, portly frame that spoke of an unhealthy inactivity of body. The head above, though, spoke very differently; of a mind honed to the most dominant kind. His deep-set, steel grey eyes studied Vastra's party as he walked and she had no doubt that the man would make a formidable opponent in any mental challenge. Though not, she was happy to note, in any physical confrontation.

"Thank you, Giles, that will be all," he said in a deep, sonorous voice that wrapped around them in a vaguely disturbing way, "Run along and find me those papers, why don't you."

The clerk did as bidden and scurried away, glancing back at his master as he went. Vastra ignored his exit and kept her eyes fixed firmly on the newcomer. She felt Archie and Peri squaring up beside her and hoped that they would allow her to speak for them all. It would take a keen intellect to deal with this man and though she admired Archie's myriad skills immensely, he was not used to dealing with such people. Miss Peri Brown was quite another matter; Vastra did not know her and could not judge her abilities. Though she suspected that a man such as the Doctor would choose his companions very carefully indeed. At least, she hoped so.

"Madame Vastra, of course, I've been expecting you."

"I am flattered, Mr...?"

"Oh, let's not get too bogged down in formalities, shall we?"

"You surprise me, Sir, I would have thought you quite keenly aware of such things."

"And I would expect better than time wasting from the Great Detective herself," he said with a faint sneer on the sobriquet.

Vastra felt Archie tense beside her but, blessedly, he remained quiet. She herself had to clamp down on her flaring anger. The man was trying, as Jenny would say, to get a rise out of her and she would not succumb.

Rather, she said, "As you wish. Your office, perhaps?"

He gave a little laugh and shook his head, "I think not. Now then, you are here to accuse me of something, yes?"

"Not at all, I assure you. We are here only to gather information. I understand that you have an interest in the same cases as myself. You were at the Thames earlier in the year, were you not? During that terrible business?"

Vastra smiled beneath her veil as the man's sharp eyes twitched a little. He had thought himself unseen then. Perhaps he was a little too confident in his own judgements or perhaps a little too sure of his superiority to a mere woman. Or a mere non-human?

"You are correct, Madame."

"And your purpose here is to oversee the investigation of such things?" He said nothing and Vastra continued, "As, for instance, the events last evening at the future Eastcheap station?" Again nothing, though Vastra watched his reactions most carefully. She added casually, "You are in charge of the investigation and, dare I say it, the elimination of those events and entities that you might choose to describe as undesirable."

"It would not be my place to make such a judgement, Madame; I am a mere civil servant, here to do the bidding of my masters."

"Oh, I bet," Peri muttered.

The man glanced at her, "An American? How interesting. An American, a street urchin -"

"'Ere, mind it," Archie said.

"- and a," the man hesitated deliberately, "woman of murky origins, shall we say?"

"There is nothing murky about my origins, Sir," Vastra laughed aloud, "I am quite clearly aware of them. But we have taken up enough of your time. I thank you for your assistance, Sir."

The man appeared as surprised by the sudden end to the interview as Vastra's companions but he only inclined his head in acknowledgement and muttered a few polite words. Vastra turned on her heels and walked back to the door, Peri and Archie taking a few seconds to catch up with what was happening and then hurrying to follow her. They were some way down the street before they spoke.

"So what was all that about then?" Peri said.

"What the 'eck was that?" Archie said at the same moment.

Vastra strode on until they were on Horse Guards Avenue, heading back towards the Embankment.

"Master Archie, we are being followed I trust?" Vastra said.

Peri made to turn but Vastra's hand snapped out to her wrist and halted her movement. Archie broke off from them and hurried across the street to a well dressed gentleman who was walking in the opposite direction. Archie said something to the man who appeared quite scandalised and replied with an indignant expression and a few harsh words.

Archie doffed his hat in a formal gesture and skipped back across the road. A broad grin was plastered over his face as he rejoined the women.

"One bloke, up at the top of the avenue and maybe someone else on the other side."

"And that man?" Peri asked, indicating the gentleman with a hitch of her thumb.

Archie laughed, "Not interested in having his way with you at all. Not sure you're his type, so to speak."

Peri glared at him but said nothing as Vastra directed them left into Whitehall Gardens. She found a bench that could accommodate them all and settled herself at its centre. Peri sat at her side but Archie remained standing, his keen eyes darting around them but never settling on any particular point. Tall buildings stood behind, a thin shield of trees blocking a little of the London noise. The long strip of a park was dotted with statues and patches of denser foliage.

"Still two of them," Archie said after a moment, "One's waiting by the entrance, one's just walking by."

Sure enough, a man was strolling along the path towards them. A tall, gaunt man with hollow cheeks. He appeared quite unwell but there was a sharpness to his gaze that belied his apparent weakness. He spared them nary a glance as he passed the bench and walked on until he was almost out of sight at the turn of the long, wide path that cut through the gardens. There he stopped, propping himself against yet another statue and lighting a cigarette.

Vastra considered the situation. She required more information and she must ensure that Archie and Miss Brown were safe. Jenny too, she thought with a deep pain in her chest. She could not afford to have anything happen at their abode. As certain as Vastra was that the Tardis was secure, it was not enough to quell her fears for her companion.

"Miss Brown," Vastra said quietly, "please return to Paternoster Row and ensure the safety of Miss Flint."

"Me?"

"You indeed; you are familiar with the Tardis and quite able to lock and barricade a few doors and windows, I am sure."

"Wow, what an offer," Peri muttered but she added, "What about these two goons?"

"Allow Master Archie and I to deal with them. You can lead the gentleman over there," Vastra indicated the man who had passed them, "on something of a," Vastra considered the phrase, "merry dance, can you not Archie?"

"Reckon I can. Don't you worry, Madame, I'll keep the bugger away from Miss Flint."

"I have no doubt of that. And I thank you both. Now, Master Archie, if you would lead the gentleman astray, so to speak."

Archie touched the brim of his hat and hurried off towards the far side of the gardens. The man took a casual look at him, flicked his gaze up to his colleague and then turned to follow Archie. Vastra had been watching the other man for most of this manoeuvre and she was pleased to see that he came a little closer, walking further into the gardens to keep a weather eye on the women.

Vastra reached into her little-used purse and dropped a handful of coins and an oversized brass key into Peri's hands. Peri stared at the pile before turning to Vastra.

"What exactly do you want me to do?"

"Remain here until you are certain that I have lead the other man away, then hurry to the Embankment and hail a Hansom Cab to return you to Paternoster Row. Secure the house in any manner you see fit, Miss Brown."

"You really think they'll be trouble?"

Vastra considered Peri's worried expression, "I trust not and, in truth, I intend to ensure it but there is always the possibility and I am putting my companion's life in your hands once more."

"No pressure then," Peri chuckled, then added in a serious tone, "Don't you worry Madame Vastra, I'll keep her safe."

"Of that I have no doubt but, pray, do one more thing for me?"

Peri listened carefully as Vastra spoke in a low, urgent tone. She smiled as her instructions became clear.

"Don't worry, Madame, I'm pretty sure she already knows."

Vastra gave a nod of acknowledgement but said no more. She rose in one fluid motion, walking the way they had come without looking back at Peri. She studied the man as she grew closer. He was as tall as his colleague but much stouter in build, a strong man used to violence, she assessed.

Vastra made sure to attract his attention and was gratified when he cast only a brief glance back at Peri before turning to follow her. Vastra walked in a slow, measured stride until she was close to the edge of the gardens and then suddenly ducked out of sight behind a screen of trees. She made just enough noise to ensure that the man could follow her, though not quite enough to entirely give away her position. In the process, she removed her veil and gloves, carefully settling them at the base of a particularly twisted little bush.

She regretted the cumbersome dress and the damage that this venture would surely do to the expensive material. Jenny would be furious, Vastra thought, and the familiar pang of fear struck her chest. She took a deep breath and focused on the movements of the approaching man. He too was attempting to be quiet but he was utterly failing; the apes had no aptitude for such things. Vastra settled herself down into a crouch, ready to spring at the man when he came clear of the trees and entered the small space that she now occupied.

Vastra would have liked a little more room to work but this would have to do and she would have to ensure that the man remained quiet during his interrogation. Unnecessarily loud screams could prove most unfortunate.

He came closer still and Vastra carefully moved to the side a little, anticipating his imminent arrival. A couple of the trees moved and shifted under his weight and then he stumbled through and found himself face to face with all of Vastra's rage. He attempted to turn and run but had barely decided on that action when Vastra's tongue lashed out at him, striking him on the side of his neck.

His legs gave out and he sank to the ground. Vastra's hands were at his throat before he could let out even a gasp of surprise. He was hefted clear of the dank soil, his useless legs dangling beneath him. His eyes bulged in horror, a single, bloody tear trickling down his cheek. Vastra shook him violently and hissed into his face.

"You will tell me what I wish to know," she said on the hiss.

And it was little more than five minutes later when a tall, imposing figure stepped carefully from the clump of trees close to the entrance to Whitehall Gardens. A quick glance left and right confirmed that no-one had been nearby and, hence, her unlikely exit had gone unwitnessed. She was dressed in a fine, if slightly dishevelled, dress, a long, heavy lace veil and was adjusting her newly-donned gloves as she stepped forth. She glanced around again, then left the gardens to hurry to the Embankment and hail a Hansom.

* * *

><p>The Doctor stepped down from an almost identical cab a few minutes later and found himself staring up at an oddly shaped building with unfortunate architectural ticks. Protuberances stood out from the main in unnecessary places and the generally run-down air of the place only served to make it appear stranger still. No doubt this had been built as a fine house but somehow it and this entire part of London had rotted away. Now the building served as a dosshouse of sorts with artists garrets above.<p>

Surely it would be removed from the map soon enough. As should much of the slum housing that blighted East London, thought the Doctor as he approached the entrance.

He made for the front door and hoped that it would be unlocked. It was and he pushed through, smiling at the predictably squeaking hinges. The Doctor's nose wrinkled as the stench of unkempt humans hit him. Combined with the air of decay that hung over the building itself and the apparent lack of sanitation in the place, it was almost overwhelming.

Yet he forged on, glancing only once at the note in his hand as he made his way to the unexpectedly fine staircase. He lumbered up to the fourth floor and never saw a soul, though he could hear the mixed chatter and cries of humanity from behind some of the doors that lined the long, dingy corridors branching off from each landing.

Eventually, the Doctor reached the far door of one such passageway. He suspected that it had been a pleasant green colour originally but now the paint had peeled away to expose rotting wood and the usual inhabitants thereof. What passed for the lock failed to resist even the slightest push and the Doctor stepped inside.


	4. Chapter 4

Madame Vastra found the Doctor there some minutes later, having fought down her repulsion on entering the building and following in his footsteps to the same room. She stepped inside to find the Doctor staring at the scrawlings of a madman daubed across the bare walls and scratched into the floor. Even the windows held faint traces of a small, looping hand and strange little drawings. Drawings that reminded Vastra of some of the eldritch signs of the Borlsover library.

"Madame Vastra," the Doctor said without turning around, "I rather thought you'd find your way here."

"You have settled matters at Scotland Yard?"

"Miss Flint will not be moved, I assure you."

"You are most kind, Doctor."

"Well, one does one's best. What do you make of all this?" he indicated the room with a sweeping hand.

Vastra considered the place more closely. The stench of defeat and defecation was appalling, almost as if the air was thick with the evil that had been created there. The words and symbols that covered so much of the available space were blessedly unthreatening - for the moment, at least - and there was no smoke or daemonic stirrings. Vastra considered both a great stroke of luck but declined to mention that to the Doctor.

Instead she said, "I have seen such things before, Doctor. They indicate a human mind turned to madness by," she paused, "an evil of some unutterable nature."

"Something Antediluvian and Non-Euclidean, no doubt."

Vastra stared at the man, unsure if he was making fun of her. The Doctor turned away again and considered the few areas of scrawlings that were a little more coherent, the symbols a little more clearly drawn.

"Your conclusions, Madame?" he said after a few moments.

"This artist sort powers that no human should have and it destroyed him utterly."

"Not powers. More a higher form of art, I suspect," the Doctor said.

"Are they not the same thing?"

He straightened and turned back to give Vastra a sad little nod, "Perhaps. Such a terrible legacy, to leave only death and horror when he sought nothing but artistic perfection."

"It is hubris, Doctor. The apes are sadly susceptible to it."

"In my experience, every race in the universe is susceptible to it. Now then, where to next?"

Vastra made for the door but stopped, her attention drawn to a particular part of the artist's mania-induced writings. She stepped toward the section carefully, afraid despite herself. The Doctor remained quiet but watched her movements with growing concern.

Vastra leaned down to study the row of small pictograms that sat at the centre of an otherwise unintelligible swathe of lines and curves. A figure kneeling, hand on chest; another standing, hand behind head; and a lion-headed creature, upstanding and proud. They were marked in the same pale ink as all the other markings but they were more clearly drawn that most and they were the only things in the room that meant anything to Vastra. Though what exactly they meant, she could not fathom.

"Madame?" the Doctor said gently.

Vastra straightened, her eyes remaining locked on the hieroglyphs. After a long moment, she turned to him and inclined her head in apology, "Forgive me, Doctor, a mere distraction."

"Really?" he said, his suspicion obvious but unspoken as they both moved on.

They left the room, glad to be out in the relatively clean air of the building and gladder still to reach the pavement and breath in the London smog. The Doctor attempted to hail a cab but failed miserably. Vastra gave nothing more than a flick of her hand and one halted before them. She hoped that her smile could not be seen through the heavy lace of her veil but feared that the Doctor was intuitive enough to sense her response. They settled into the seat and remained silent as the driver whipped up the horse, the movement jostling them in their places as they began the journey to Sutton Square.

"It's unlikely that this painting is still at the house, surely?" the Doctor said.

"It is, alas, but I should like to be certain."

"There's something else, Madame," the Doctor said but Vastra remained quiet. After a long pause he muttered, "Jenny Flint must have the patience of a saint," before settling into the silence.

Eventually, the Hansom turned off Urswick Street and on to Sutton Square. Vastra and the Doctor stepped down into the darkening light of evening. It seemed much darker than it should, Vastra thought and then chastised herself for such nonsense. She lead the Doctor up to the sole Police Officer left on duty outside the house. He was a middle aged man of flabby build and a pallid, doleful expression.

"London's finest, I see," the Doctor said to Vastra before they reached the man and he sweet talked the Constable into allowing them entrance.

"Nicely done, Doctor," Vastra said as they stepped into the familiar corridor. She pointed further along, "It is the Professor's office that we require."

The painting was indeed missing from the room, though there was no way to know if Inspector Brown or the mysterious civil servant had ordered it removed. The house showed the signs of many feet trampling through it but was entirely empty. Apparently the Inspector considered the investigation over. Though who's investigation and of what, Vastra was not sure. She lead the Doctor into the office-come-workroom and found it much less noisome than it had been yesterday; the pitiful remains of Jeremiah Hoogstraten having been dealt with by the inestimable Professor Litefoot. The rest was the same and the strange parts on the bench attracted the Doctor's immediate attention.

"Well, now, what have we here?" he mused as he considered them, "Haven't seen one of these in years. Something of a coincidence, wouldn't you say, Madame?"

He turned to find Vastra looking about the room in a vague, uneasy sort of way. Vastra realised that she was required to answer and said something non-committal.

"Really? I rather thought you'd have seen one before. Well then, allow me to explain. This little thing is surprisingly useful for ridding oneself of those pesky critters that nothing else will shift. And I'm not talking about human germs either," he added with a chuckle.

Vastra was suddenly much more attentive, "You think Hoogstraten planned to use it to defend himself against the creatures?"

"I rather wonder if he hadn't been using it; looks like it had shorted out under some misuse."

"The Professor was attempting to remedy the flaw?"

"Not a flaw at all, Madame, simply an overestimation of its abilities. Does rather make one wonder how much your Hoogstraten knew, doesn't it?"

Vastra turned back to the room, her head tilted as she thought through what little she knew of the man. An image came to her mind; Hoogstraten ensuring that he himself took ownership of this remarkable painting, of bringing it home and assuring Miss Lucy Flint that he had matters in hand. He was after all a great collector of _objet de singularité_, as it were. Did he truly believe that he could control such powers with nothing but the toys that he had collected? Yes, Vastra realised, that was exactly what a man like Hoogstraten would believe. And it had cost him his life and Lucy Flint perhaps much, much worse.

Vastra felt such an overpowering sense of revulsion for the man that her legs weaken beneath her. The Doctor was at her side immediately, a gentle hand on her elbow.

"I thank you, Doctor, but I am quite well."

"You're quite not," he insisted, though he released her arm, "That aside, what are we here for?"

"It would appear that we are here for that," Vastra indicated the device on the bench, "and perhaps for some clue as to the cipher for Hoogstraten's notes."

"In code? I'm really quite good with codes, you know," the Doctor said in what he may have thought was modesty.

Vastra was about to speak but something stopped her. A cold sense of impending dread gripped as tightly on her heart as had her revulsion only moments before. The bile rose in her throat and she fought to breathe through it. Once more she felt the Doctor's presence at her side but she waved him away, all of her focus on the sounds of the night outside.

"Doctor, pray, how soon can you repair the device?"

"Oh, when we get back to the Tardis it shouldn't take too long," there was a long pause and then he added nervously, "Why do you ask exactly?"

"You will recall that I mentioned having dealt with such matters before, Doctor?"

"You did."

"I fear I may have developed some sense of imminent doom."

"Ah."

He dragged out the sound, then turned back to the bench and began working with some urgency. Vastra heard the shuffling, muttering sounds that the Doctor made at only the very edge of her hearing. The rest of her focus remained on whatever sixth sense had warned her of some forthcoming danger. She shed her veil, coat and gloves, wishing that she had thought to don her more practical garb for the evening and then remembering that it lay in tatters on the floor of her bedroom.

She stalked out of the room and just as she reached the hallway, a strangled cry reached her from outside the house. Vastra briefly mourned the flabby Constable before continuing her search for some more easily defensible area. All the while, she found herself fighting down that same ancient fear that had been so overwhelming as she and Jenny fought the evils that the Borlsover family had suffered. Then she had had her beloved companion by her side and Vastra felt the loss of that great comfort more deeply than she had before.

It would cripple her if she allowed it, Vastra knew but for a few moments she could do nothing but allow the pain to have its way. Then her iron will took hold once more and she was hurrying to the back of the house just as the front door flew open. She turned to see one of the evil cherubs framed in the doorway. The faint light of dusk had faded now and there was only a little lamplight cast from further down the square. Vastra thought there might be figures standing back from the house but she could not be certain and did not have the time to make sure.

The creature was already making its gibbering way towards her. Vastra made a show of her position to ensure that she had the hideous little cherub's attention and then stumbled back into the small conservatory at the rear of the house. It was Miss Lucy Flint's private sanctum and was full of large, ostentatiously flowering plants. Vastra and Jenny had attempted to recreate the effect in their own home, filling a newly-arranged room with greenery. It had not been a success and Vastra felt an irrational anger about that, as if the plants had been deliberately obstinate in their refusal to grow.

She funnelled that anger into her increasing fear as the creature bound towards her on it's stubby legs. The viscid, pink flesh shifted and warped around it. There was a strange jabbering, chattering noise to it but no real sound from the movements themselves. Vastra watched the creature carefully, alert to the possibility of its sudden attacks. She danced around the room, using the foliage sometimes to mask her progress, sometimes to indicate it. She could not afford to allow it to turn back for the office; the Doctor must be given time to repair that strange device.

And then the pink mist was upon her, its apparent lack of mass irrelevant as it barrelled forward and bared its fanged teeth. The visage was horrifying and the effect would surely have frozen anyone who had not experienced such things before. Vastra, however, had fought things worse even than this. Though they had been rather more susceptible to the power of a well-placed kick.

Fighting back against the viscous flesh was almost impossible, any blow seemingly absorbed by the gelatinous nature of the creature. Vastra snarled and hissed as she lashed out time and again against the shifting pink mass that bore down upon her. She stumbled to the side, felt her feet give from beneath her and reached out in panic to grab for whatever might come to hand. Her desperate grasp found a large plant that surely belonged in the Cretaceous period. It stood in a heavy pot and Vastra's tumbling weight upset the whole, tipping the pot into the path of the creature.

It gibbered and skipped away from the toppling flora. Dislodged leaves seemed to embed themselves into the pink blubber and the creature appeared troubled by it. That moment of distraction allowed Vastra to scuttle away and regain her feet behind a thin shield of house plants. Now her fine dress was ripped and dark with her own blood, her flesh again rent. She had been barely aware of the creature's sharp claws or the strange little adze that it wielded with such surprising force. She ripped the tattered garb from her chest and pulled the dress from her with a vicious swipe of her hands.

So she would die naked. The thought passed through her head in such a matter-of-fact way that Vastra almost laughed aloud. Perhaps she and Jenny would be together again one day, perhaps such ideas were fanciful. They were comforting at least.

Vastra saw the flash of pink that indicated the creature's renewed attack. She stepped out from what little protection the plants had afforded her to hiss and scream at it. She lashed out at the evil little cherub, her tongue snapping from her mouth in repeated attempts to detach the axe from its grasp. They came together, Vastra's solidity engulfed by the vaporous flesh. She felt her hands press deep into the tissue as it gave against her strikes, then pass clean through with only a wispy miasma left in her grasp.

She stumbled again, the non-existent yet still pressing weight of the creature bearing down upon her. It raised the adze, the sharpened end racing down towards Vastra's prone form. It fell with unimaginable force in a short arc aimed directly at her head. Vastra's eyes closed, despite her determination to look her killer in the eye. An image of Jenny formed in her mind and Vastra relaxed, awaiting the fatal blow with an odd sort of calm.

The blow never came. Instead there was a popping sound as of a child's toy destroyed, a gust of hot, dank air and then absolute silence. Vastra's multiple eyelids opened one after the other until she was staring up at a beaming Doctor. He had disposed of his unfortunate overcoat and there was an equally unfortunate pink stain splashed across his previously white shirt and yellow trousers. He did not appear to have noticed that nor the splashes of pink mist that hissed and dissipated from his round face.

He waved the newly-assembled device above Vastra's head and smiled, obviously very pleased with himself.

"Told you so."

"Your intervention was most timely, Doctor."

"It was my pleasure, Madame Vastra," he said with an edge of disappointment. Still, he pocketed the device and reached out to help Vastra to her feet, "You appear to have discarded your clothing."

"Human garb is such a constraint, don't you find?"

"Well," he preened, "I've always been quite fond of my own wardrobe."

"And the universe is richer for it, I am sure."

Vastra looked around at the chaos that she and the creature had wrought. Poor Lucy's beloved room had been quite destroyed in their clash and now plants, pots and the sparse furniture were cast about in ruination.

"You certainly put up a fight," the Doctor considered Vastra's battered body, "and this time you really must give yourself chance to heal."

"Alas, I fear that I will not have."

"No?"

"There was only one creature, Doctor."

The Doctor's eyes grew wide, "Peri."

And with that, they were racing through the house for the front door. Much to Vastra's consternation, the Doctor veered off when they reached Hoogstraten's office. He rushed out again almost immediately, his voluminous coat in hand. Thrusting it at Vastra, the Doctor made a curt suggestion that she cover herself up and then they resumed their race to the door. The few humans who awaited the creature's victory were no match for a furious Silurian and a Time Lord concerned for his companion and soon they were rushing through the streets of London to return to Paternoster Row.

At that very location, Peri was becoming aware of movement at the back of the house. She had barred the front door and lower windows as best she could but there was very little in the house both large enough to do the job and light enough for her to move. The Zero Room was still closed and she was alone.

Peri hurried to the rear of the house to find a conservatory of sorts but not one that appeared conducive to the growth of anything very much. She cast a botanist's eye over the assortment of dying and deceased plants and pictured what the room might look like with a little care. The plant life wilted further at her mere inspection.

"Shame," Peri said to herself, "it'd be a nice room with a bit of work."

Large glassed doors stood at the back of the house, looking out on to the little-used courtyard beyond. There were more sounds from outside and Peri peered through the glass. She wondered what the outbuildings were used for but her curiosity was driven from her mind when a flash of movement caught her attention. There were people entering the courtyard; a tall figure and two shorter ones perhaps. No, Peri realised, two people carrying something heavy between them, the weight making them stoop.

Whatever it was, they dropped it in the middle of the open area and stepped away hurriedly. The third figure approached it but Peri did not wait to see more. She turned, pulled what pots and furniture there were into some sort of barrier and then hurried back to the Tardis.

As she reached the sitting room, there came a loud crashing sound and a shuffling, shifting noise from the back of the house. Peri hurried on, grateful that she had changed her clothing once more; if she had to fight whatever that thing was, at least she'd be able to move her arms and legs. Somehow that was not a comforting thought and Peri tried to ignore it as she looked around the room. Desperate to find something to barricade the door, she was attempting to coerce one of the chairs into moving when a jabbering, chatting sound stopped her.

She looked up to see a strange, pink figure in the doorway. It shimmered and shifted, the flesh quivering around the little cherubic body.

"What the hell are you?" Peri said.

She was glad that it did not respond. And then alarmed to see it rush into the room, its chubby arm raised, an oddly shaped pickaxe in its hand. Peri gave the chair a hearty shove but didn't take the time to watch it impact on the creature. She turned on her heels and raced for the Tardis door.

She was inside and forcing the doors closed when a presence behind her made her freeze.

"Where the bleedin' hell am I?"

The moment's distraction was enough to allow the creature to barge its way through the slightly open doors and Peri was sent tumbling backwards. She fell heavily to the ground, the Tardis doors sweeping wide despite the protests of whatever mechanism operated them. Peri skidded across the floor and found herself at the feet of a shocked Jenny Flint.

What happened next was a blur of pink flesh, angry Victorian maid and expletives. Peri watched it all from her dazed position on the floor. She watched the rage-fuelled charge of the human meet the amorphous mass of the creature and merely bounce off. Though Jenny did at least succeed in dislodging the weapon from its hand. Jenny tumbled back to the console and tripped over Peri's prostrate form.

There was a shout from the doorway of the sitting room, a desperate hiss of Silurian rage and the Doctor's familiar cry of, "Hold on, Peri!" Then the creature was disintegrating into a fine pink mist that choked the air. It made a shocked sort of squeaking noise and was gone. Seemingly at the same moment, Jenny's trajectory took her bouncing into the Tardis control panel and the familiar whining sound of the time rotor began.

Outside, the Doctor and Vastra skidded to a halt as the Tardis doors slapped shut and the blue box faded from view.


End file.
